The Prince of Parthia: A Tragedy

_QUEEN and LYSIAS._

Queen. Haste, and shew me to the Prince Arsaces, Delay not, see the signet of Vardanes.

Lysias. Royal Thermusa, why this eagerness? This tumult of the soul?--what means this dagger? Ha!--I suspect--

Queen. Hold--for I'll tell thee, Lysias. 'Tis--oh! I scarce can speak the mighty joy-- I shall be greatly blest in dear revenge, 'Tis vengeance on Arsaces--yes, this hand Shall urge the shining poniard to his heart, And give him death--yea, give the ruffian death; So shall I smile on his keen agonies.

Lysias. Ha! am I robb'd of all my hopes of vengeance, Shall I then calmly stand with all my wrongs, And see another bear away revenge?

Queen. For what can Lysias ask revenge, to bar His Queen of hers?

Lysias. Was I not scorn'd, and spurn'd, With haughty insolence? like a base coward Refus'd what e'er I ask'd, and call'd a boaster? My honour sullied, with opprobrious words, Which can no more its former brightness know, 'Til, with his blood, I've wash'd the stains away. Say, shall I then not seek for glorious vengeance?

Queen. And what is this, to the sad Mother's griefs, Her hope cut off, rais'd up with pain and care? Hadst thou e'er supported the lov'd Prattler? Hadst thou like me hung o'er his infancy, Wasting in wakeful mood the tedious night, And watch'd his sickly couch, far mov'd from rest, Waiting his health's return?--Ah! hadst thou known The parent's fondness, rapture, toil and sorrow, The joy his actions gave, and the fond wish Of something yet to come, to bless my age, And lead me down with pleasure to the grave, Thou wouldst not thus talk lightly of my wrongs. But I delay--

Lysias. To thee I then submit. Be sure to wreck a double vengeance on him; If that thou knowst a part in all his body, Where pain can most be felt, strike, strike him there-- And let him know the utmost height of anguish. It is a joy to think that he shall fall, Tho' 'tis another hand which gives the blow.